


In Sickness and in Health

by TiaLewise



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Allergies, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dorks in Love, Flu, Healthy Relationships, Illnesses, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Post-Canon, Sickfic, Slice of Life, Thiefshipping, Vomiting, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-10-28 14:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaLewise/pseuds/TiaLewise
Summary: First your village is destroyed, then you merge with a dragon-dicked demon and inhabit the body of an adorable nerdy little basement goblin...and after the Pharaoh wins his duel and passes on, the gods tell you "no we don't want you lmao" and toss you back into the real world with a multitude of allergies and a boyfriend that really did not want to have to give up his peanut butter. Bakura never gets an easy ride. It's a good thing he's well looked-after.A silly post-canon fic I couldn't help but bash out to get the first chapter released for Valentine's Day. Happy commercialised romance-fest, everyone!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sueinthesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sueinthesky/gifts).



> Susy, honey, this dumb-ass fic is for you. Maybe it'll cheer you up, maybe it won't - but I'm always here for you, regardless, okay? Keep your head up high. I love you!

It was rare that Malik slept in, and even rarer that he woke after Bakura. Today, however, seemed like one of those days. Rolling over in the tangle of blankets around him, Malik grumbled and rubbed his eyes; too much sleep made him grouchy. After a few minutes to collect himself, he slipped out of bed and began searching for wherever Bakura had thrown his clothes the night before, then made his way to the kitchen. Showering could wait, he needed coffee before anything else.

While he waited for the coffee machine to finish its work, Malik leaned back against the counter, yawning. The kitchen bore the messy evidence of a much-needed feast, courtesy of the apartment’s second occupant. Malik had probably passed Bakura in the living room, but barely paid him any mind in his search for caffeine. Amidst the crumbs on the work surface, a single knife lay, coated in a pale, brownish substance that had Malik sobering up quicker than coffee could ever do.

“Bakura!” he yelled, storming into the living room. A pair of nonplussed, mahogany eyes blinked at Malik from the sofa, their owner saying nothing as he chewed his mouthful of bread and – “Bakura, are you eating my hazelnut butter?!” Malik demanded.

“Bitch, I might be.” A roguish grin twisted Bakura’s lips in spite of the obvious rash beginning to spread across his cheeks.

“You fucking idiot!” Malik dashed back into the kitchen and grabbed the box of medication from the windowsill. “Have you forgotten what happened with the peanut butter?! You almost died!”

Bakura sniggered as he shoved more bread into his mouth. “Yeah, and whose fault was that?” It had been Malik’s fault, technically, but in his defence, neither of them had had any reason to suspect that Bakura’s brand-new, Zorc-less body would have all the immunity of a sand dune.

A week into Bakura being back in the mortal world, their first kiss had been rather spectacularly ruined by the remnants of peanut butter in Malik’s mouth sending Bakura into near-instant anaphylaxis; during the resulting stint in hospital (in which there was much confusion over Bakura’s apparent lack of existence in the national database), they discovered a host of additional allergies as well as zero immunity to any preventable diseases, but Bakura swiftly discharged himself after that and only Malik’s persistence ensured he took his medication daily.

“Anyway,” Bakura continued, “I have that injector thingy now, right? So it’s fine.”

“It is _not_ fine!” Malik returned and tossed Bakura’s medication at him. He made a mental note not to buy any more hazelnut butter for himself if Bakura was going to insist on eating it. “You _know_ you react badly to nuts, _habibi._ Can you please not try to kill yourself on a daily basis? I have to live here too, you know.”

Bakura rolled his eyes, but swallowed down a few antihistamines regardless. “Relax, Malik. This stuff only brings me out in a rash. It’ll be gone in a day.”

Unfortunately for Bakura, he ended up vomiting within the hour – barging into the bathroom whilst Malik was taking a shower – and passing out on the sofa in a pissed-off sulk after Malik jabbed him with his EpiPen. Malik sat with Bakura while he slept, reading a book and sipping coffee in between occasional texts to Ryou on his phone.

_Kura giving zero fucks is the reason we can’t have nice things._

_Oh no, did he eat something stupid again?_

_Read my fucking mind._

_Is he okay?_

_Yeah._

_Make sure he rests up, and I’ll be over in a few days when I’ve got some free time._

_Will do. Thanks, honey._

_< 3_

Bakura began to stir after a few hours, rubbing his irritated skin and wincing. “Ow.”

“You okay, _habibi?”_

“Mm.” Bakura reached for his phone and looked at his reflection in it. “See? Going down already.”

“I put some cream on you while you were asleep, that’s why. That and your tablets – which, by the way, you keep forgetting to take in the morning.”

“Quit nagging me about it, will you?”

“Bakura.” Malik looked reproachful. “I get worried about you…I’m only nagging because I care.”

A brief flash of guilt crossed Bakura’s face. “…I know.” He flipped himself round, so his head rested in Malik’s lap, and he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply when Malik began to stroke his hair. “I’m still not used to being looked after.”

“I know.” Malik echoed Bakura’s words as his fingers worked over his scalp. They had only been reunited a few months, after all – and what was a few months of tender love and care, compared to almost a lifetime of fighting for survival in the wilderness that was Kemet?

Only fragments of the former King of Thieves had transferred to Bakura’s current body, but his memories, his hopes and fears and all the trauma that came with them…they stayed with him, and with them, his stubbornness borne out of having always been alone.

Bakura shuffled upwards a little, so he could press his cheek to Malik’s chest. Malik wrapped his arms round his lover and smiled, nuzzling the crown of his head. Bakura liked to listen to Malik’s heartbeat if he was anxious or overwhelmed. “How do you feel now?” Malik asked him.

“So-so.” Bakura glanced up at Malik and grinned. “You know what would make me feel better?”

“Fuck right off. The one time I made you steak, _I_ was sick.”

Bakura shook his head. “Wrong meat.”

“But then – oh.” Malik chuckled as he realised what Bakura was implying. “Hmmm…if I give you a blow job, could you return the favour?”

Bakura ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth a few times, frowning. He nodded after a moment, and Malik gave his nose a playful kiss as he began to untie Bakura’s sweatpants. Bakura lifted his hips to allow Malik to pull the fabric, along with his boxers, down and off, then rolled off to the side and spread his legs, winking at Malik. “All yours, gorgeous.”

Malik slipped off the sofa and knelt between Bakura’s legs, smiling up at him and running his hands over the soft, pale expanse of his lover’s thighs. “I do enjoy having you all to myself.”

“Pfft, nobody else but you could tolerate my shit.”

“Ryou might.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want Ryou to suck my dick.”

Malik laughed as he took Bakura’s half-hard cock into his hand. “No, I suppose I don’t want that either.” He leaned forwards and ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft, ending with a quick swirl over the blushing head. Bakura’s eyes closed, a gentle sigh of pleasure escaping his lips and his body relaxing under Malik’s touch. Malik repeated the motions several times before holding Bakura’s cock upright and wrapping his lips around it, sliding halfway down and sucking back up.

“Oh, that’s good…” Bakura murmured. “Keep doing that.”

It didn’t take long for Malik to unravel Bakura into a quivering mess. His cheeks flushed dark, deeper than the rash already speckling them, and his hands gripped Malik’s hair as his low growls became sharp, high-pitched whimpers. Malik stroked with one hand what he couldn’t fit in his mouth, and cupped Bakura’s balls with the other. He knew Bakura was close and sucked a little faster, a little harder. Rewarded with a delightful cry above him, Malik closed his eyes and hummed as Bakura shook with orgasm and poured into his mouth. His hold on Malik’s hair loosened, hands falling limply to the side.

Malik pulled back, wiping his lips as he swallowed. “Okay?” His own erection twitched in his tight jeans, desperate for attention.

Bakura’s chest heaved with each breath. He gazed down at Malik with sleepy, satisfied eyes, a goofy grin on his face. “You bet.”

“You look tired, _habibi.”_

“A little.” Bakura reached for his boxers and slipped into them. “Come to bed with me?”

Malik held a hand out to Bakura to bring him to his feet, and they began walking to the bedroom. It was clear Bakura was worn out and wanted to go back to sleep, but after the months they had spent together, Malik knew Bakura would rather eat a whole plate of chickpeas than turn down the chance to pleasure his lover. It was better to go to their room, then, so he could lie down and relax the whole time.

Once in the bedroom, Malik stripped off his clothes and got comfortable on the bed. Bakura knelt beside him, staring down at his lover’s body with eyes fogged by lust despite his orgasm only moments before. Eager for the favour to be returned, Malik reached down to wrap his fingers around his erection, giving it a few lazy strokes to direct Bakura’s attention where he _really_ wanted it. If anything, the desire in Bakura’s eyes grew deeper; he lowered his head, allowing Malik to trace the head of his cock around his willing lips.

“That’s it…” Malik sighed, as Bakura sucked and licked him, tongue tracing over the head and down the veins pulsing along the thick shaft. “Mmm…take me into your mouth…all of me…”

Bakura hummed at the gentle command, and with practiced ease, swallowed Malik’s cock right to the base, relaxing his throat as Malik shuddered and resisted the urge to jerk his hips. His fingers dug into the mattress and he bit his lip. “Gods, Bakura! Yes…”

Bakura slid back up and began to bob his head, slow and controlled. His eyes flicked up to meet Malik’s, warm brown to soft lavender, and Malik smiled at Bakura as he worked, brushing locks of messy white hair away from Bakura’s face and tucking them behind his ears. Bakura looked tired, but happy, eager to please and loving being able to do so. Malik knew he’d never tire of seeing his former partner in crime so full of joy.

The thought made his belly hitch with additional pleasure at the same time that Bakura began moving faster, and Malik tossed his head back, gasping. One hand clutched Bakura’s hair, the other the pillow under his head, and it only took a few more hard sucks for Malik to hit his peak, an unrestrained cry tearing from his lips. Dimly he acknowledged Bakura pulling back and kissing his way up his body, but he was too dazed to do anything more than sink into the bed and utter soft, happy moans of contentment.

Bakura reached Malik’s face, cupping his cheeks in his hands. Malik opened his eyes then, gazing up at Bakura. He looked so beautiful with his lips full and rosy, eyes sparkling with amusement and hair completely untamed, as wild as its owner.

“I love you.” The words came out of Malik’s mouth before he could stop himself. A violent blush coloured his cheeks and he tried to turn away, but Bakura’s grip held him firm. “I-I mean – ”

“Malik.”

Their lips met, sweet and tender in their silence. A world apart from their usual harsh play, though neither would ever ask for it differently. Relieved at Bakura’s reaction, Malik allowed himself to be swept away in gentle caresses of lips and tongue, in hands wandering and chests pressed together, hearts fighting to beat as one.

When Bakura pulled away, he looked bashful, a little flustered, even. “I love you, too…you flamboyant asshole.”

Malik laughed, lilting and joyful, and he pulled Bakura back down to kiss him once more. Perhaps sleep could wait a while.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days went as normal for Bakura following a reaction, eating little and sleeping lots. Malik dabbed cream onto the fading rash on Bakura’s cheeks every night, but Bakura managed to keep up his medication without the usual reminders. When he felt able to stomach food, it was usually miso soup, which helped the persistent nausea somewhat. Otherwise he just stuck to sips of water between naps.

By the time Ryou came to visit, Bakura was considerably more energetic, as far as his usual daily routine of sitting on the sofa and playing games went, anyway. While Bakura set up and Ryou made drinks in the kitchen, Kek hovered in the doorway with Malik as they prepared to head out for a walk. “I can’t believe you’re actually going to feed the ducks,” Bakura shot at Kek. “How fucking old are you again?”

“Old enough.”

“To party?”

“To feed ducks, stupid.” Kek bared his teeth in an amused grin. Though still a little too wide and sinister, the gesture nonetheless made him look so much more human than he ever had been as Malik’s repressed, traumatised alter.

“Behave, Bakura. We’ll only be a few hours,” Malik interjected, busy fluffing up his hair in the mirror and adjusting the collar of his jacket.

Ryou wandered in then, holding two mugs of tea, which he set down to stand on tiptoe and kiss Kek’s cheek. Kek giggled and blushed in response. “Have fun, love.”

“I will.” Kek gestured to Malik and they turned to leave. “Later, nerds!” Bakura flipped him off with a derisive huff, Malik blowing him a kiss on the way out.

“Who’s doing what?” Ryou asked as he settled cross-legged on the sofa, mug of tea in hand. “Which of us gets to be Bakura the Explorer today?”

“I did it last time.” Bakura loaded up _Final Fantasy VI_ and tossed the controller into Ryou’s lap, then hopped onto the sofa next to him and grabbed his own mug. “We left off just before the Magitek Research Facility, I think.”

“Mmhm, we did indeed.” Ryou began checking their party’s equipment, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. “I really wish we’d done some more grinding with Locke, his stats are terrible…you’re looking better, anyway. I’m glad.”

“Can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

“Not when we shared a body for as long as we did.” Ryou laid his head on Bakura’s shoulder and huffed out a gentle sigh as he sipped tea. “No more hazelnuts for you.”

“I miss the days where we could eat Nutella straight out of the jar for breakfast and there was nobody to judge us for it.”

“I…may still do that from time to time.”

“Oh, fuck you, that’s mean.”

“Sorry,” Ryou laughed. “That reminds me, did you – ” He paused a moment as a battle began, and Bakura picked up his own controller. “Did you ever go back and get your vaccinations?” Bakura shook his head, eyes focused on the game. “Why?”

“Because I don’t fucking want to, Ryou!” Bakura snapped. The retort came out harsher than he intended. After the peanut butter incident, the last thing he wanted to do was walk back into a medical setting and be jabbed with multiple needles and stuck with plasters like he was a child.

Ryou hummed softly, completely unfazed by Bakura’s anger. “Kek was scared at first, too.”

“Kek doesn’t have multiple allergies and can go outside without sneezing every five seconds.” Bakura gulped down his tea with a sour expression.

“Your cat makes Kek sneeze,” Ryou pointed out.

“Good. If his sensitive little nose can’t handle Ser Pounce II, then he can just fuck the fuck off out of my house.”

“I thought her name was Cersei.”

“Well, I wanted to name her Ser Pounce II!” Malik had given their little golden-haired kitten her actual name, owing to the fact she was, in Malik’s words, a total bitch who tried to kill everything in her path. As if on cue, Cersei appeared at Bakura’s feet, having apparently been napping under the sofa; he scooped her up and deposited her on his lap, where she proceeded to dig her tiny claws into Bakura’s thighs to get comfy. “Anyway,” Bakura winced at the sting of the kitten’s nails, “the point stands.”

“I’m sorry, Kura.” Ryou nuzzled Bakura’s neck, his breath a warm and gentle touch that had Bakura closing his eyes briefly. “I know this is hard for you.”

Bakura just shrugged in response to Ryou’s statement with nothing left to say, and in any case, they had reached the bosses of the dungeon. A new gleam sparkled in his eyes, always ready for a challenge. Ryou got up to make more tea while Bakura kicked Ifrit and Shiva’s asses, then they swapped so Ryou could handle the escape battles and Bakura hunted down some snacks for them. Cersei paced around Bakura’s ankles, mewing for her own food, so he pushed her towards her bowl, still full of biscuits, and rolled his eyes when she immediately turned her tiny nose up at it. “Tough shit, kid, your wet food comes later,” he muttered as he went back to the living room and picked up his controller again. She followed him and curled up in his lap again, content to be a pain in the ass till she got her own way.

Before they knew it, several hours had passed and an excited Kek barrelled into the apartment, full of smiles as he hopped into Ryou’s lap and began recounting at a rapid-fire speed, “It was amazing! They’re so cute and they took the food straight from my hand and nibbled my fingers, and oh, they had ducklings as well! I nearly cried, did I say they were cute, can we get a duck, please, will your landlord let you have pets?”

“I think he enjoyed himself,” Malik chuckled as he kicked off his shoes and removed his coat.

Bakura scowled into his mug. “You’re such a fucking child.”

Kek swatted at Bakura, still smiling. “I had fun, you should try it sometime, bitch.”

“Sorry, love, it’s a strict no pets policy where we live,” Ryou said sadly, “but we can go see the ducks as often as you want, okay?”

“Quit enabling him,” Bakura snapped.

_“Habibi.”_ Malik’s tone, though firm with disapproval, held a touch of concern. Bakura looked at his lover, at his wind-flushed face and quirked brows, always so beautiful, but uncertain as he beheld Bakura, all set jaw and narrowed eyes. Malik approached and felt Bakura’s brow, his fingers cool against Bakura’s skin. “Are you feeling okay? You’re a little warm.”

“I’m fine, just…” Bakura turned his head away. “Just tired.”

Malik’s expression softened. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“…Yeah, maybe.” A nap didn’t sound like such a bad idea; on reflection, a dull ache had begun to settle in Bakura’s bones, no doubt from the day’s exertions after resting.

Ryou gestured for Kek to shift off his lap, then turned to squeeze Bakura’s shoulder. “We’d best be off. We’ll play again in a few days?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Ryou.”

“Anytime.” Ryou reached out to scratch Cersei behind her ears and then got to his feet. He and Malik kissed each other’s cheeks while Kek gathered up their things, and a few minutes later saw he and Ryou heading off home, Kek’s happy ramble about ducks audible all the way down the hall until the elevator doors closed behind them. Only then did Bakura pick up Cersei and drag himself off to his bedroom, stripping off his clothes and then flopping down into bed without a second thought.

Though it had only been late afternoon when Bakura drifted off, he slept through the remainder of the day and all night, only waking when Malik’s alarm went off for work. Bakura groaned and buried his head in Malik’s shoulder, the shrill noise of the alarm making his head pound horribly.

“Shit, Bakura, you’re boiling.” Malik pulled Bakura closer and pressed his lips to his brow a moment. Pulling back, he shut off the alarm and turned the bedside lamp up higher, scrutinising Bakura with soft, sleepy, but clearly worried eyes. “How do you feel?”

Bakura’s voice came out hoarse and dry. “Like I just went ten rounds with Zorc.” It was barely an exaggeration; every inch of him ached with a tiredness he’d never felt before. An involuntary shiver ran through him as he closed his eyes again, pulling the covers a bit tighter round himself. “I’ll sleep it off…I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve just slept for twelve hours straight.” Malik felt Bakura’s forehead again, frowning. “I think you might be a little feverish. Do you need me to stay home?”

Bakura shook his head and rolled over with another groan. Malik made a noise that sounded like he wasn’t convinced, and Bakura yanked the covers over his head, not wanting to be fussed over. After a few moments Malik sighed and got out of bed, heading off to shower and get dressed. Already falling back asleep, Bakura only dimly registered the sounds around him.

By the time he was fully awake and able to get out of bed, it was nearing midday. The aches hadn’t let up, nor had his head stopped throbbing. Feeling for all the world like he’d been hit by a truck, and still shivering despite the burning of his skin, Bakura pulled on his comfy sweatpants and stole Malik’s dressing gown from the hook on the back of the bedroom door. The fluffy cotton swathed him in Malik’s natural spice-and-musk scent, like being wrapped up in his loving embrace even in his absence.

Taking his medication was torture, as his throat was so sore it felt like he had swallowed a handful of needles. Bakura choked down a few painkillers as well, then dropped into his usual spot on the sofa and began flicking through the TV channels for anything interesting. He knew he should have tried to eat something, but his stomach knotted itself up into an unpleasant churn at the thought.

It was going to be a long fucking day.


	3. Chapter 3

Malik couldn’t concentrate at work, his mind wandering constantly to Bakura and hoping he was alright. Only Bakura’s dislike of being fussed over kept Malik from disregarding his lover’s protests and high-tailing it straight home and staying with him all day, every day. They both knew they’d do nothing but bitch at each other if that ever were the arrangement, and in any case, someone in the house needed to bring money in.

Bakura and Kek had only been back for four months, but with Bakura’s delicate health, he didn’t like to go out – and because he didn’t go out, he wasn’t exposed to anything that might strengthen his immune system. It was a catch-22 and not something Malik had been able to find a resolution to yet. All he could do was give gentle encouragement and hope that their slight laziness when it came to cleaning had a positive effect – Ryou had said something about the latter working like that, anyway.

As soon as the clock struck six, Malik was out the door faster than he’d ever been. He checked his phone on the way to his bike, seeing a few earlier texts from Bakura, but no calls – which usually meant he was managing okay.

**_14:52     Where’s Cersei’s food gone?_ **

**_14:53     nmv I found it_ **

**_14:58     How can a tiny furball be so fucking noisy when it’s eating, fgs_ **

**_16:08     Is dairy-free ice cream a thing?_ **

**_16:08     Because it feels like I’ve been throat-punched by Wolverine_ **

**_16:09     HOLY SHIT YES IT IS A THING_ **

**_16:09     THANK YOU GOOGLE_ **

**_16:11     Be a babe and grab some on the way home?_ **

“Since when the fuck do you call me babe?” Malik laughed to himself as he tucked the phone away and reached for his helmet. Yep, Bakura was definitely managing okay.

Malik swung by the supermarket and grabbed a few cartons of ice cream and sorbet, fascinated by the array of choice. Not having much of a sweet tooth (and neither did Bakura), he’d never felt the need to look in this particular section, but tonight seemed like a good opportunity to cuddle up with Bakura and indulge in junk food they could both safely consume. Grinning at the thought, Malik paid for his new-found treats and chucked them under the seat of his bike before setting off for home. On a whim, he also stopped by a pharmacy and bought a thermometer to check Bakura’s temperature a little more accurately.

Bakura napping on the sofa wearing Malik’s dressing gown, and swaddled in extra blankets, and then the throw from the sofa, hadn’t been high on his list of expectations of what he might walk in on. Malik wanted to laugh at the sight, but one look at Bakura’s bleary-eyed expression as he awoke sobered Malik up straight away. He dropped down to the carpet and combed his fingers through Bakura’s sweat-dampened hair, tucking a few stray strands behind his ears.

“Hey.” Bakura leaned into Malik’s touch, eyes fluttering closed again.

“Hey, honey. Aren’t you hot, bundled up like that?”

“I’m fucking freezing.” Malik went to get the thermometer, reading the instructions quickly and then sticking it into Bakura’s ear, ignoring his half-hearted protests. “Give it to me straight, doc,” Bakura said after a moment, “am I dying?”

“Shut up,” Malik laughed. He glanced at the reading and frowned. “38.2. I guess it could be worse…I wonder if you’ve caught the flu.”

“If I have, it’s from one of you fuckers,” Bakura groaned and rubbed a hand over his face as he slowly sat upright. “I never go anywhere.”

“If you’d just got your flu shot like we all said you should – ”

“Oh, here we go again.” Bakura’s eyes rolled, his voice a derisive hiss.

“Well, you might not have been in this mess if you had!”

“I don’t want to talk about this – ”

“And _I_ don’t want you dying on me, dammit!”

Bakura’s head retreated further into the collar of his “borrowed” dressing gown, making him look like a frightened tortoise. “Malik,” he murmured, “you of all people…you…”

Malik eased himself onto the sofa, beginning to regret his frustrated outburst. Bakura looked more spooked than pissed off now. _“Habibi?”_

“Dammit…you should know how it feels to be coerced into doing something that scares the living shit out of you.”

There it was, Bakura’s deathly fear of hospitals rearing its head. He’d never admitted it, not until now, but Malik always knew, knew from the moment Bakura discharged himself mere hours after his first collapse. For all Bakura’s posturing, trying to play the role of someone who was just lazy, the plain fact was that almost dying had traumatised him.

Time for a different tactic.

“Okay, okay, no shots. Could I at least coerce you into eating this with me?” Malik held up the bag of ice cream, pulling a carton out to emphasise. “I doubt my waistline will forgive me, but…”

Bakura’s face practically lit up, emerging from his cocoon looking much more alert and relaxed. Wordlessly, he pulled the carton from Malik’s hands and pried the lid off to gaze at the contents inside with a joyful smile. Malik went to grab a few spoons and to put the rest of the sweet treats into the freezer, then settled down beside Bakura and kissed his burning hot cheek. “I couldn’t decide what to get us, so I kinda…picked up one of everything?”

A peculiar gleam sparkled in Bakura’s eyes that matched the smile on his face. He pushed a spoonful of ice cream into Malik’s mouth from his own spoon, raising his free hand to wipe Malik’s lips afterwards. “I appreciate it.”

“Oho! Is that a “thank you” I hear?”

“Don’t push it, asshole.” Bakura chuckled, taking another spoonful for himself.

They put a movie on, dimmed the lights, and snuggled under their blanket together while they passed the ice cream back and forth. Bakura started out with his head on Malik’s shoulder, and as the movie progressed, he nestled closer and closer, till he rested completely in Malik’s lap, legs slung across the sofa and nose nuzzled into the crook of Malik’s neck. Neither really paid attention to the sounds and lights coming from the TV screen, wrapped up in their blanket, and in each other.

“Tired,” Bakura murmured. “I don’t…think I’ve ever been this tired before.”

“You’re not well, Kura, honey.” Malik stroked Bakura’s hair, unkempt silver locks tumbling through his fingers. “I guess you need to rest so you can get better.” He remembered the day before, when Bakura had been so pissed off at Kek. Maybe part of that was the beginning of his illness, but Malik knew Bakura better than he knew himself, and he knew envy in his lover when he saw it. In his usual state, as fit and well as he could ever be, Bakura would rather die than do something mushy like hop into Malik’s lap like he owned the damn thing. A faint smile tugged at Malik’s lips at the realisation that Bakura _needed_ his touch right now, was willing to forego his pride for a little comfort in his sickness.

Bakura nodded off towards the end of the movie, his soft breaths a warm tickle on Malik’s skin. It wasn’t particularly late, only 9 o’clock or so, but after a few hours of content cuddles with his grumpy lover, Malik felt ready to sleep as well. Not wanting to disturb Bakura, Malik switched off the TV and guided their bodies carefully to lie down properly on the sofa, Bakura nuzzling close even in slumber. Malik kissed Bakura’s slightly parted lips, drawing a deep sigh from him, then settled down and closed his eyes.

_Get better soon, love._

* * *

“I hate you so much right now,” Bakura moaned. Head buried in his knees, he drew rapid, wheezing breaths, each inhale a white-hot fire searing his lungs.

“I know.” Malik’s face was grave as he stroked Bakura’s hair.

It had been touch and go over the past week. Bakura’s fever fluctuated, sometimes coming back down to almost normal levels, and then worryingly high within a few hours. He managed a day of relative normality, even getting up and about and eating a little – and then it all took a turn for the worse when he started coughing up phlegm and complaining of pain in his chest. Malik kept insisting they see a doctor, but Bakura refused, again and again, until today, when Bakura refused to get out of bed all day, saying he felt dizzy. That’s when Malik finally put his foot down, and in the evening dragged Bakura to the emergency department at Domino Central Hospital. Currently they sat in one of the examination rooms, waiting on a nurse to make themselves known, and of course, Bakura had bitched and groused about the whole situation as much as he could, but Malik didn’t listen.

“Sorry to keep you!” A middle-aged nurse bustled in, holding some papers to her chest. Bakura only raised his head a fraction to look at her, then dropped back down to cough into his sleeve. She sat down at the desk and scanned over the paperwork in front of her. “So…Bakura al-Kelnari, 21 years old…” She pulled Bakura’s free hand towards her, applying a plastic clip to his index finger, “Suspected flu for the last week or so, progressing to dizziness, coughing, chest pain. Is that right?”

Bakura had snatched his hand away the instant the clip was on and wrapped his arms around himself, trembling. Malik spoke up for him. “Yeah, that’s about it – Bakura, put your hand back on the desk, she’s trying to measure your oxygen levels.” Bakura reluctantly moved his hand, though he kept his free arm tight across his body. “Sorry,” Malik offered towards the nurse, “he’s not fond of hospitals, I’m afraid.”

The nurse nodded as she removed the clip from Bakura’s finger. “94%. Hmmm…Bakura, dear, I’m going to need to listen to your chest and take your blood pressure, okay?” When Bakura didn’t answer, she looked over to Malik. “Does he speak Ja– ”

“I can understand you perfectly fine,” Bakura snapped, sitting back so she could carry out the relevant examinations.

The nurse wrote down her findings, tapping her pen on the table as she pursed her lips in thought. “You’re a little hypotensive, nothing I would be overly concerned about, but with the rales, tachypnoea, and tachycardia…I’m going to order a chest x-ray just to be on the safe side, alright?”

Bakura didn’t understand a word of the medical talk, nor did he particularly care. He just wanted to go home, and evidently Malik thought the same as he piped up, “Will he need to be admitted for that? Bakura’s immune system is weak, so he could really do with not being here if he can be treated at home.”

The nurse brought up Bakura’s medical history on her computer and scrolled through it a moment. “Yes, I can see here…multiple allergies and confirmed immunodeficiency…I can’t speak for the doctor, but my guess is they’ll want to keep Bakura overnight at least so they can do some more tests.”

What little breath Bakura could keep in his lungs froze at the nurse’s statement. Shaking his head, he muttered into his knees, in his old, long-dead mother tongue, “Malik, I’m fucking serious, don’t let them keep me here!”

“I’m sorry,” Malik sighed, in the same language. “We’ll just have to wait and see what the doctor orders.”

Several hours later, Bakura had had his x-ray, reluctantly offered his arm to have blood drawn, then been confined to a hospital bed with an IV drip in each hand, and a resounding diagnosis of pneumonia.

Only Malik’s firm presence kept him from ripping out the blasted needles and stumbling out the doors to find his way home. It was past midnight now, but Malik had been insistent that he stay, practically snarling at anybody that tried to get him to leave. Now, he was asleep in a chair beside Bakura’s bed, having been reading a book before exhaustion overcame him.

Bakura lay curled on his side, facing Malik, watching the gentle rising and falling of his chest. He had always been beautiful, Bakura had thought that since the day they met, but in sleep, Malik was ethereal, an otherworldly being too good for the rotten earth he resided on. How he had seen Bakura as worthy enough to drag out of the shadows and breathe life into, Bakura would never know – asking would cast doubt on his willingness to be alive. But Malik, and Ryou, too…they had done so much for him in the short time he’d been back amongst the living…

And Bakura had met their efforts with stubborn ungratefulness every step of the way.

 _I can’t go on like this…not anymore._ Furious tears welled in Bakura’s eyes, though he was too worn out to reach up and brush them away. Agony tore at his chest; he pressed his lips together tightly and choked down the threatened sobs. _What the fuck was this all for, anyway? Malik’s been through so much pain even without me fucking things up._

_Dammit, I have to get my act together!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Sitabethel – “I don't always make Malik bottom, but when I do, he's still on top!”

* * *

Bakura was discharged four days later, after he responded well enough to antibiotics that he could go home without risking a relapse. With a new allergy under his belt – penicillin, which he somehow found the energy to be amused about – off he went with strict instructions to rest up, drink plenty, and to take all his medication on time. Malik took a few days off work at first, just to make sure Bakura was coping; it was more to put himself at ease than anything else. Bakura still slept a lot, but he was starting to look after himself a little more, and eventually Malik backed off, leaving him to his own devices.

Six weeks after discharge, they were back at the hospital, thankfully for something much less terrifying – though of course, Bakura didn’t see it that way.

“Just do it.” Bakura assumed his usual ‘I hate medicine’ position and stuck out his arm. Beside him, Malik held his free hand, chuckling at his lover’s resignation.

“Sharp scratch!” the young nurse trilled as the needle went in and she pushed the plunger. Bakura flinched and dug his nails into Malik’s hand, though, to Bakura’s credit, he didn’t pull away as Malik expected him to. “That one’s done,” the nurse said as she disposed of the needle and syringe, “now can you give me your other arm for the next one?”

Bakura raised his head, mouth agape. “What do you mean, the next one?” he whispered.

“Sorry, sweetie, they can’t all fit into one syringe! Just one more, and then you can go home.”

Bakura looked desperately at Malik, who just offered a shrug. A displeased growl rumbled low in Bakura’s chest as he snatched his hand away from Malik and turned to face the nurse, screwing his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see the second needle going in. “Finished,” the nurse smiled. “How are you feeling after that?”

“Fine,” Bakura muttered. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, you’re good to go! Get your lovely husband to look after you, okay?”

“I-I – he’s not – dammit Malik, stop laughing!” Bakura’s face had gone bright red. He thumped Malik’s knee, but Malik hardly felt it, too busy spluttering with mirth into his hands.

They left quickly after that, Bakura grumbling under his breath, Malik trailing behind with tears in his eyes, smudging his kohl as he dabbed them away. “What’s so fucking funny?!” Bakura snarled at Malik once they had paid for the vaccinations at the reception desk.

Still giggling, Malik leaned in and kissed Bakura’s cheek. “I’m just glad you’re getting back to normal now.”

“Hmph.” Bakura shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked away, ears red and glowing through his hair.

“Bakura! I parked the bike over here, you idiot!”

“I’m walking! I hate you!”

“Get your asthmatic ass over here before I run it over!”

“God! Fine!” Bakura stormed back and snatched his helmet from a smirking Malik’s hands. “You better look after me _real well,_ bitchface.”

Malik waited till Bakura had swung himself onto the bike behind him before replying. “Of course, _hubby.”_

Bakura’s fingers tightened dangerously around Malik’s waist, but before he could start screaming, Malik kicked the engine to life and pulled out of their parking spot.

Neither spoke during the trip home, though Malik had a feeling Bakura would have been scowling and cursing under his breath the whole time. He practically shoved his helmet at Malik when they parked up, and stormed upstairs to their apartment floor, Malik following at a more leisurely pace.

The soft pitter-patter of running water in the bathroom met him as he entered the apartment. Cersei jumped off the back of the sofa as Malik was hanging up his jacket, scampering over and rubbing herself against Malik’s ankles, purring loudly. “Hey, li’l murderer,” Malik grinned, bending to scoop the kitten up. “I need to make dinner. Be a good girl and there might be some steak in it for you, hm?” Cersei licked her paw and groomed her whiskers by way of reply, quite happy in Malik’s arms as he made his way to the kitchen.

Half an hour later, as Malik was putting the finishing touches on their food, Bakura ambled in, freshly showered and clad just in his boxers; his favourite pair, the yellow-and-black Hufflepuff ones. “I smell meat,” Bakura grinned as he leaned against the counter. “Have you finally seen the error of your rabbit food-eating ways?”

Malik’s eyes rolled. “Mine has tofu.” He passed a finished beef noodle bowl to Bakura, pleased to see how Bakura’s face lit up at the sight of the barely-seared strips of meat amongst rice noodles, stir-fried vegetables, and lots of fiery chilli pepper. Malik grabbed his own bowl and they retreated to the living room to eat. “How are your arms?” Malik asked Bakura.

Bakura shrugged, mouth full. After a moment he swallowed and replied, “I stabbed myself in the arm once, remember? Those needles were nothing.”

“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you flinched worse with the needles than you did with your switchblade.”

“That reminds me, I’m supposed to hate you right now. Lemme just go back to doing that.”

“I made you steak.”

“…Dammit.” Bakura huffed out a mock-frustrated breath. “I’m still mad at you, though.”

Malik shrugged as he plucked a chunk of tofu with his chopsticks. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“I want a rimjob.”

“Might have to call me “Flametongue” in that case.”

“Later, you fucking idiot,” Bakura laughed, his face going as red as the chillies garnishing their food.

* * *

Malik took a thorough shower, rinsing away the sweat and grime of the day. Getting clean might have defeated the purpose of his planned objective, but he still had to thoroughly spoil Bakura, and that was worth getting a little dirty again for.

Bakura had been in bed for a few hours, playing _Crisis Core_ on his PSP. Malik laughed as he heard Bakura shouting in annoyance at the game. The apartment had been so quiet when Bakura was sick, he’d almost taken for granted how much he loved Bakura’s lack of a volume button. His rough, husky growl – playful, sardonic, downright seductive at times - had been sending shivers down Malik’s spine since the first day they met. Memories of almost running his dumbass lover over with his motorcycle in a dingy back alley had Malik chuckling as he switched off the shower and reached for his towel.

“Took you long enough.” Bakura scowled at Malik over the top of his PSP as Malik entered the room, towel clinging to his hips.

“Desperate much?” Malik winked. Bakura scoffed as he put the little silver console away. “So…” Malik dropped the towel and crawled onto the bed towards Bakura. “I believe I have orders to look after you _real well…”_

“Yes…I believe you do.” Bakura’s eyes had grown dark and lustful, breath coming in excited pulls. Their faces were a hair’s breadth apart, noses brushing, eyelashes tickling.

 “Bakura…”

Malik sank down, pressing their lips together. A gentle moan vibrated between their linked mouths, neither too sure who had been the one to utter it. Bakura slipped his tongue into Malik’s mouth and caressed his face with one hand, the other rubbing firm, loving circles over Malik’s back.

Malik straddled Bakura’s hips and brought their chests flush against each other as their kisses deepened. He opened his eyes a fraction to watch the soft, content expression on Bakura’s face, and admire the light pink blush dusting his cheekbones. He was gorgeous, a marble-white statue of impossibly cute proportions; Malik loved every inch of him.

Their kisses broke as they drew apart for breath. Bakura wiped his lips, panting. “Still mad at you,” he murmured.

“You won’t be…not for long.” Malik latched onto Bakura’s left nipple, sucking and nibbling on the pert nub until Bakura arched up and moaned, then he switched to the other nipple. He loved to feel Bakura writhe in pleasure beneath him, and to know that he alone could incite such passion in his lover. His tongue lashed against Bakura’s nipple, feeling it stiffen, Bakura’s gasps and moans vibrating against his lips.

As Malik teased Bakura, he slid a hand down to palm the growing bulge in Bakura’s boxers, cock hot and throbbing even through the material separating them.

“M-Malik…”

Malik pulled back from Bakura’s chest with a _pop_ of wet flesh. He began trailing kisses down Bakura’s soft stomach as he worked his boxers off and tossed them to the side. Bakura spread his legs, fingers toying with the silvery hair at the base of his erect cock in his urgency to be touched, but Malik only gave the blushing tip a quick kiss before grabbing a pillow and slipping it under Bakura’s hips. Bakura let out a moan of frustration, which only spurred Malik on to tease him more.

His tongue swirled slow and deliberate over the delicate skin of Bakura’s asshole, and he was rewarded with a powerful shudder and a long, low moan of desire. It was no secret that rimjobs were a firm favourite of Bakura’s, and Malik enjoyed the quiver of soft, pink flesh beneath his tongue, the breathless sounds Bakura made as Malik fucked him with his mouth.

Bakura dug his fingers into the bedsheets and his hips twitched as he pressed himself into Malik’s touches. “Oh, baby, yes,” he whispered. “Gods, yes, tongue my ass, oh, fuck…”

Bakura’s dirty talk always betrayed his true feelings, let loose all the sweet and desperate desires he’d be too prideful to say outside of the bedroom. The loss of control turned Malik on to no end. He pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rising to straddle Bakura’s hips again. “I have a surprise for you, _habibi.”_

“Oh?” Curiosity replaced the wanton pleasure running rampant over Bakura’s expression, though he continued to breathe heavily.

“Here.” Malik took one of Bakura’s hands and guided it round to his ass.

Now Bakura frowned, thumb running back and forth over Malik’s backside as he tried to figure out Malik’s implication. Malik gave an impatient shift in response. “I don’t – ” Bakura’s fingers brushed down the cleft of Malik’s cheeks, hitting cool glass, and at that, his eyes lit up with understanding. _“O-Oh.”_

“It’s been a while since you topped, hm?” Malik giggled, immensely pleased to see the excitement plain on Bakura’s face.

Bakura’s fingers wrapped around the looped base of the newly discovered plug and gave it a few teasing swivels, gazing up at Malik as he writhed and panted. “You put this in while you were showering?”

“Just after – _oh!_ Fuck…” Malik rutted their cocks together, eyes closed in bliss as Bakura continued to tease him. “I figured you’d want to lie back and let me do the work tonight.”

Bakura reached for the lube and condoms on the nightstand with his free hand. “Yes, god forbid you ever do any work around here.”

“Still m- _aaaah…_ mad at me?” A breathless cry escaped Malik when Bakura began to slowly pull on the plug, slipping it out of his body.

Bakura threw the plug aside to be cleaned later. He rolled a condom onto his dick and pumped a generous amount of lube over the top of it, winking up at Malik. “You be the judge of that.”

It was enough. Malik lifted his hips and sank slowly down Bakura’s cock. The plug hadn’t been in quite long enough to feel like adequate prep, and Malik’s face screwed up in slight discomfort at the burning stretch. It was okay, though. He knew it wouldn’t bother him in a few moments.

Bakura gazed up at him, already panting even though Malik had yet to start moving, save for the trembling in his thighs. “You alright?”

Malik took a few deep breaths, then nodded. “I’m good.” At the same time that he spoke, he lifted up slightly, squeezing his muscles tight around Bakura’s cock. Bakura called out in ecstasy, shuddering, and Malik smirked, loving the sight of Bakura coming undone already.

Adjusted now, Malik set up his rhythm; slow lift up, hard drop down, slow lift up, hard drop down…he rested his hands on Bakura’s chest for balance, able to feel his lover’s heart hammering madly beneath his palms, and anchored his knees firmly against the mattress, keeping himself in place.

Bakura’s fingers dug into Malik’s thighs and his hips rocked, clumsy at first, eventually matching Malik’s rhythm to push up every time Malik dropped down. Malik didn’t think Bakura’s face could flush any darker, but flush it did, and his mouth was open and eyes closed as he gasped and moaned, never quiet even for a moment.

“God, you feel so _good,”_ Bakura sighed.

“Yeah?” Malik leaned down to whisper against Bakura’s lips. “Am I turning you on, _habibi?”_

“Oh, f-fuck yes…”

“Am I going to make you come?”

Bakura could only manage a breathless nod and a short whine of longing. Malik chuckled at the wanton sight – then Bakura shifted his hips slightly as he thrust up, and now it was Malik’s turn to lose his breath. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, every thrust of Bakura’s cock felt like magic against his prostate. He pressed his brow to Bakura’s and clutched at his shoulders, whimpering in pleasure.

“Wasn’t I supposed to lie back and let you do the work?” Bakura’s tone was grumpy, but his hands continued to caress Malik’s skin and his hips never ceased their gentle rocking motions.

“S-Sorry,” Malik laughed.

“Hm. No matter.” Bakura slipped a hand round to wrap around Malik’s cock. “Worth it to see you like this.”

“Oh, Kura…” Malik sighed out, completely enraptured by the sheer sensation exploding throughout his body. He fumbled for the lube after a moment and coated his cock, having recovered enough to start moving again. His hips circled slowly in time with Bakura’s thrusts, their hands slipping over each other as they stroked Malik’s cock together.

White-hot pressure built in the pit of Malik’s stomach. He was moaning freely now, matching Bakura’s husky cries of ecstasy. Malik threw his head back, bucking into their clenched fists, Bakura rutting up against his prostate again and again until finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. A scream choked in Malik’s throat as he came over their hands, dripping onto Bakura’s stomach.

Panting heavily, Malik’s circling came to a gradual halt. Bakura was still hard and twitching inside him, and that wouldn’t do at all. After a moment to catch his breath, Malik lifted himself up and disposed of the condom, then reached for the wipes on the nightstand. He cleaned them both up, smiling at the needy groan Bakura uttered when he dragged the soft cloth over his pulsing erection. Then he was settling back between Bakura’s legs and reaching once more for the lube.

He slipped two fingers into Bakura, feeling his muscles clench around the digits at the intrusion before relaxing. At the same time, he took Bakura into his mouth. No more teasing; his lovers was practically shaking with the need to come, and Malik wanted to unravel him completely.

“Holy fuck, yes! Malik! Yes!” Bakura screamed when Malik teased his prostate with his fingers and sucked hard and fast. His head bobbed, back and forth. Bakura dug his fingers into Malik’s damp hair and bucked his hips up, pushing his cock towards the back of Malik’s throat.

Malik couldn’t swallow cock nearly half as well as Bakura could, but he did his best to relax, adding a third finger into Bakura’s ass and hooking them together. The flesh against his tongue swelled and pulsed strongly, and a moment later Bakura was groaning out Malik’s name as he shot hot come down his lover’s throat.

Malik crashed into the mattress next to Bakura. “Think I need another shower after that.”

“…Give me five minutes to recover, and I’ll get in with you.”

“Oh, will you now?”

“I’ll wash your back for you.”

That made Malik smile gently. “Deal.”

“Hey, Malik?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“…Thanks. For looking after me recently. I’d probably be dead without you.”

Malik nuzzled his nose into Bakura’s hair, sighing happily when Bakura’s arms wrapped around him. “I’d go to hell and back for you, if it meant never losing you again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bakura kissed the top of Malik’s head. “I’m yours, now and forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


End file.
